‘Well, Missy,’ Harlon mumbled, ‘I gots to go now.’
‘He’s on his way back, isn’t he?’ Lyra said, listening to the forest, ‘I can sense him.’
‘Yep, and the hunt, well, it makes him kinda thirsty, if you know what I mean?’ Lyra nodded.
‘Besides, Old Harlon got things to do if you wanna eat right, don’t he?’ Lyra still had not processed the idea of her new diet, and simply smiled awkwardly. Harlon looked at the woman with something akin to pity, ‘Now, Missy, there’s a lot of things you’re gonna have to get used to, new things from an old world.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder, ‘But don’t you worry none. You do as he says, and you be alright!’
‘Like what?’ Lyra replied.
‘Well, this is a whole new world for you, and you have to learn to live in it, and see the way he sees.’ Lyra sighed deeply, resigned to whatever fate she had accepted. ‘When you sacrificed yourself to him, gave yourself to him, you agreed to step into the unknown.’
‘I didn’t sacrifice myself!’ Lyra retorted.
‘Missy, the minute you offered your life to him, to fall at his hand, you gave up your life. You belong to him now, but the sacrifice and the change, it takes time.’ Harlon looked up as if listening to a distant sound, ‘Now Old Harlon has to go, remember what I said, obey him and you will be alright.’ With that the old man dimmed the lights, turned on his heel and left Lyra alone in the darkness.
Lyra waited until she heard Kane’s footsteps, and as if hearing an unspoken command, stripped and lay ready for him. She could feel his mighty presence as he entered the room and sighed as the need in her stomach welled. The contours of his powerful body glowed in the moonlight, highlighted by his magnificent height. Lyra’s eyes clung to his body as he dropped his jacket on the floor, followed by his tool belt. Kane strode over to his nubile woman and reached across the headboard, drawing a length of rope. Using the blood-stained weapon, he sliced two chunks from it and hurriedly bound her feet to each end of the bed frame. Lyra shuddered under his touch; a mixture of anticipated pleasure and a continued fear of the creature.
She succumbed as the monster took her wrists and strapped them to the remainder of the hanging rope. As Lyra lay at his mercy Kane ran the cool blade along her flesh; over her belly and breasts and brought it to her lips. The metallic smell of blood filled her nose, and a need to taste it quelled her anticipated disgust of the feed. Her tongue licked her own lower lip as she savoured the aroma. Kane moved the steel closer, so that it just touched her swelling mouth. She knew what he wanted; he did not have to communicate his desire, nor explain hers.
Lyra eased her tongue out carefully and licked the blood from the blade. The taste proved divine; she craved it the minute the fluid touched her tongue. Nothing had prepared her for the instant bloodlust that surged through her being. Any reservations she might have had faded with both the taste and the ecstatic feeling that enthralled her as she fed. Her tongue ran along the length of the blade. The vision of her silhouette feeding from his kill enraptured Kane. A third time she licked, cleaning one side of the machete. Her eyes locked on Kane; his superior vision could see the wild glint forming; the glint common to the Immortalis. The desire for blood.
Kane turned the blade and allowed his woman to continue licking the life fluid until the blade was clean. Lyra relaxed into the pillow, savouring the last droplets as they slid down her throat. Kane dragged the blade back down her body, extremely slowly, savouring her struggle to remain still and protect her skin. The slight shiver that ran through her belly delighted him, and he paused, pressing the blade slightly harder against her, causing a further shiver.
Lyra closed her eyes and listened as the machete was returned to its sheath, and the sheath was dropped to the floor. The blood’s magic continued to excite her body, as did her vulnerability to the monster. She could hear him removing his clothes. His desire was greater even than her own. The hunter back from the kill had come to collect its true prize. He stalked about the bed, gazing at his prey; her senses were greater now, even the darkness would not shield his true face from her sight. Kane willed her to raise her head, and she acquiesced immediately, allowing him to blindfold her. The mask was lifted, and the creature climbed between her bound legs.
His mouth dropped to her belly, tasting her skin, as he moved towards her breasts and then her throat. He licked the rapidly healing mark that he had left on her neck. Her taste had changed; the divine scent and flavour of her blood proved irresistible. With one sharp talon he opened the wound and clamped his mouth on it. Lyra stiffened and whimpered under his cruel touch. Instinctively she wanted to wrap her legs about his and pull him closer but was unable to do so. His knots were tight, and with each movement she grazed against the rope. The grazing was nowhere near as unbearable as his teasing.
Lyra kissed Kane’s bare shoulder as he sucked on her metamorphosing blood. She could feel her body changing, developing; it no longer hurt or pulsated. The pain had become pleasure previously unknown to her. The creature released her and used a talon to open his own throat, his body pressed down on hers as he put the wound to her mouth. Without hesitation, mesmerized by the taste of blood, Lyra fed furiously from her lover. Vibrations stimulated every nerve in her being with a passion.
Her breath and lips on his neck excited Kane, but Lyra clasped him for longer than necessary. Kane tried to ease her away, but she struggled against him, biting into him, hungry for more. He shivered as she bit into him; her strength was accelerating rapidly. Between biting she used licks and gentle nips to tease him and arouse him craftily. The monster used his heavy hand to turn her from him and nipped into her own wound, causing her to cry out. Before she had a chance to recover Kane moved up between her legs and pressed against her. Lyra wanted so desperately to push her legs against him for her own pleasure and scuffled further against the ropes tied so tightly to her ankles.
Kane allowed Lyra to writhe urgently against him, teasing her for some time until he heard the words that he so needed from her. His knots were too strong; she could not slacken the rope. The monster used the force of his body to drive up against her; he could feel her growing dampness and smell her beautiful, needy aroma. She would give in without having to be asked. He pushed against her again, and the woman, delirious with desire, moaned and begged,
‘Kane, please.’ Instantly the creature forced himself deep inside her and Lyra cried out desperately. Her stomach tightened with each thrust, and her lip trembled. The surging waves engulfed her with a greater strength than ever before. She wanted more; her body continued to writhe against him, and she chewed painfully on her lip.
Kane relished every movement, every pure indication of her submission to him. His mouth came down hard on her lips, and he penetrated her with his tongue, tasting the remains of his victims’ blood on hers. His hands took hold of her shoulders so that he could move with a greater ferocity. The waves passed through her and over her, engulfing her completely and growing with each thrust.
As the sensation grew within her Lyra experienced an internal shift; a cosmic force growing within her. Again, she writhed against the rope, and with one inhuman force wrenched the ropes from the bed frame. Her legs dug into Kane’s thighs and she drove him further into her. Her body lightened as if she had levitated and she wrenched her hands free with equal strength and grabbed the monster’s hips with equal fervour. Her lips stung wickedly. The alluring smell of him drowned her in sensation. She bit at his wound again, and as the blood trickled into her mouth, and as he shook against her, the wave released and flooded her body. Lyra screamed out his name, throwing them both into a mutual, unbearable release.
For a while they lay together, their bodies calming from the torrential climax, in silence. Once Lyra’s pounding heart eased Kane put his mask on and removed her blindfold. Lyra remained still, obediently waiting for his instructions.
Three times, the words hung in the air.
‘Three times what?’ Lyra asked with confusion. Blood exchange, three times, Kane indicated.
‘We only exchanged blood twice,’ Lyra stated. Three exchanges, Kane confirmed. There will be three. Lyra nodded,
‘For it to be complete?’ Kane stroked her cheek, and she thought of Harlon’s words warning her to obey.
Lyra looked up at the mask and ran her hand from Kane’s neck to the base of the mask.
‘Will you ever let me see?’ she asked wistfully. Kane grabbed her hand with brute strength and pushed it from him angrily. ‘I don’t care what you look like.’ Lyra flushed, hurt by his action. ‘I’ve seen what you have done, I’m still yours.’ Kane jumped away from her and proceeded to dress without responding. For an instant he stopped as if listening to the darkness; Lyra listened too. There was something moving in the distance. Quickly, she drew her attention back to Kane who was fastening his scabbard. ‘Kane, I don’t care what you…’ Her words abruptly ceased as he snapped his neck furiously towards her.
Bells rang in the basement. The hunters had not come alone. He had been so consumed with lust that he had missed the third member of the party. The rage was eating away at him; the thought of her looking at his true face filled him with an evil agony. Lyra’s stomach thrummed with a new hollow pain as Kane marched away from her, leaving her naked and alone on his bed.
‘John, where are you?’ a man of a similar appearance to John called. ‘Bro, where you at?’ he shouted again. Brian had been looking unsuccessfully for his brother for some time. His torch was dimming, and he moved about heavily through the woods. He had walked around the edge of the lake, and through the trails but to no avail. His search sent him deeper into the forest until he found himself staggering down a muddy ditch into a clearing. Nothing moved. He edged further under the canopy of trees. The fading light swished about in the darkness until something caught his head. Brian let out a deep cry and reached up to his scalp. There, embedded in his skin, was a piece of barbed wire dangling from the trees.
Painfully he unpicked the spikes from his head and shone his torch upwards. The wire was flecked with the crimson hue of blood. Brian gazed upwards, but there was nothing visibly attached to or caught in the wire. He glanced down to the forest floor, where smatters of blood patched the leaves; large spots of blood. Fear shot through him; his missing companions, the wire, the blood, none of it boded well. He shone the torch around and checked his vicinity. Nothing could be seen.
Carefully, and trying desperately to keep as quiet as possible, Brian stepped away from the scene. He turned back towards the ditch and clumsily climbed upwards. At the peak he darted through the woods towards the lake and trails with haste. Every so often he checked his perimeter, but there was no movement. He headed back to the cabin by the lake, where the party had left their vehicle. As he ran, he pulled his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and flipped the case open. There was no signal. The moon shone over the lake and provided enough light for Brian to find his way back to the cabin. There he fell against the parked station wagon and desperately pressed at his phone and wiggled it about in an attempt to get a signal.
From his other pocket Brian pulled a set of keys and unlocked the driver’s side door. As he pulled the door open something sharp snapped at his neck, cutting into both sides. Brian spun around as he let out a yell. Before him loomed a horrendously deformed creature; one eye was lower than the other, his lip was cleft on the same side and his skin rugged and leathery.
‘What the fuck are you?’ he yelled. The creature watched him with deliriously evil eyes and a snarl on his lip. Brian backed away around the car. The creature waited. ‘That ain’t right!’ the terrified man cried, staring at the monster.
Brian’s eyes looked down; the monster held a bloodied set of secateurs. The injured man touched his neck where warm trickles of blood stung. The monster stepped forward, gauging the man’s reaction to his face; sheer horror, beneath the fear, sheer horror and disgust. Kane widened the blades and ran towards the man; this time the blades sliced into his throat. A gargling sound filled the air and Kane widened the blades once more, this time removing Brian’s head in one wrath-filled cut.
